Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I visited a friend this morning to lend support for a health issue that landed her in the hospital overnight.  We discussed how we resist taking medication, but on the other hand, we're of a age where deterioration is inevitable, and more monitoring necessary.  As my Buddhist teacher used to say, quoting Bette Midler, "old age is not for sissies".  I helped her clean up her kitchen, get the dishes in the dishwasher, put away silverware and wipe down the counters.  I had a big wet spot on my shirt front after, and she offered to dry it, but I wasn't bothered at all.  I'm of a height where if I'm near a sink my shirt gets sopped.  This health development is a whole new ball game for my friend, and she's talking out her feelings and fears with her friends.  That's just what I like to do as well, and I hope I comforted her a bit, or at least served as a sympathetic sounding board.  We need to know we're not alone.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My father has been gone 32 years.  But he is a presence in my life.  He guides me in love.  I knew he loved me every second.  That was his great gift to me.  He got angry with me, he didn't understand me or my values, he felt I made wrong choices.  He was bluntly, sometimes brutally vocal about it - no holding back.  But he was my rock, and not for financial reasons, although he believed that, but because his love was boundless.  He didn't respect women much or get along with his mother.  But he saw me as like himself, and we looked like twins, so I was an exception.  He was leery of my education but proud.  He felt entitled to judge me, and I had a hard time shrugging off that voice inside my head that was him:  his values, his era, his limits.  But I'm free of all that now, so all that is left is boundless love, and because of it I have been able to love myself.  Thanks, Dad.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday my husband and I saw "Won't You Be My Neighbor?"  It's a wonderful documentary about Mr. Rogers, and as I said to my daughter, all you need to know about parenting.  I cried through a lot of it, because it reminded me of when my children were small and watching, and he was so wise and tender and brave.  He dared to stand up to those exploiting the "children's market" and say what was unhealthy and harmful that kids were watching on TV.  He also talked about things that most parents keep from their children:  death, assassination, war, racial prejudice and fears.  His listening capacity was phenomenal.  He heard, saw and respected children, and he honored their trust in him.  How much we need someone like him again, and how much we miss him.  He liked us just the way we are, and we loved him just the way he was.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I benefited greatly from being incommunicado at the cabin.  My cell phone doesn't work there, so, though in an emergency I have a land line, the news apps and deluge of emails that have nothing to do with me really were stacking up quietly.  There was one thing I missed:  the Belmont Stakes.  Three days after it was run I heard from my son, who's cell phone did work, that Justified had won the Triple Crown, and I was thrilled.  As I child I devoured the Black Stallion books, Margaurete Henry's horse stories and many others, and growing up mainly in Virginia I was fascinated by horses.  Yesterday my husband found the You Tube video of the race, and at the end I had tears in my eyes.  I'm not rider, I'm just an admirer of horses.  We had a pony for the kids for a few years, then a horse for seven years.  I loved her, but I didn't ride.  I broke the ice in her water in the winter, shoved manure, brushed her, treated her with oats, and brought her back when she escaped our corral.  She was wonderfully good natured, and gentle with our kids.  Deborah Butterfield's horse sculptures bring tears to my eyes.  Horses are social animals, but they are usually imprisoned and isolated, which is a terrible thing to behold.  Justified will have plenty of social cache and fields to run in, but he's one of the lucky few.  My hat's off to his great heart and effort and sheer beauty of his body.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

There is nothing like a two year old to keep you on your toes about right speech.  We've just spent a week with our older son, his wife, and our grandson, and we thought before we spoke, and also didn't speak of many things that might confuse or scare him.  Little pitchers have big ears!  We wanted him to trust the lake and the boat, and that entailed explaining the rules carefully and insisting on a life jacket, etc.  He was amazingly cooperative, and he loved playing and wading in the lake and riding on the boat.  He saw osprey and a bald eagle and ravens and thousands of butterflies.  He was thrilled with the catepillars that dropped onto the deck.  He picked up pinecones and litchen.  We rocked in rocking chairs on the deck.  We put his puzzles together again and again and played with Playmobil figures.  We read all the stories in the Curious George book I'd gotten him over and over until he pretty much had them memorized.  We had FUN!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I bought my two grandsons giant pinwheels yesterday, when I was shopping for rugs with my daughter.  They were part of a Fourth of July display, and caught my eye.  What is more fun than a pinwheel?  They've been around since at least my childhood, are easily made with paper and pins and a stick, and spin like crazy.  One of the most delightful things about grandkids is how they take you back to your own childhood, and it's simple pleasures.  My grandmother used to take out a tin tub from the cellar and fill it with water and my brother and I would splash and play in it for hours.  We'd pour from one container to another until the water was all soaked into the lawn.  Another thing she did was save cereal boxes and containers and we would play store on the front steps, using money we'd made from paper and grocery bags.  My grandparents were poor, but resourceful.  I watched my grandma can pickled peaches, beets, butter pickles and tomatoes.  Then, later, she'd take me to the cellar to admire row after row of shining cans ready for the harsh winter of Missouri. The colors were jewel-like and the mystery of the cellar tantalizing.  So many amazing things for a small child to wonder about.  Now I'm  a witness to that wonder again.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we vote in the primary.  It's fitting we have to trudge up a hill to a garage to do so.  I live in an area where I'm semi-comfortable with most of the politics and my representatives, but I know that I'm in a bubble.  My concerns are not necessarily those of others.  I think of my grandchildren, first and foremost.  I want water, clean air, opportunity and peace for them.  I don't see a lot of grandparent thinking in our country right now.  The Me-ism of the eighties has been growing stronger ever since the Reagan years, and now we seem to be a nation of the fearful and narcissistic.  There is no vision, and I think that is what leadership is all about.  Steering us, for our benefit and the future, towards sustainable living and compassionate actions.  Who are those people and how can they come forward in our current climate?  I pray that some appear soon, very soon.